turning an expectant expression our way.
"Uh, Mr. Smart?"
"Yes," he said, looking past us as if the answer to who we were and why we were bothering him might be there.
"My name is Ava Barnett. I left you a message yesterday?" She stepped forward and offer a hand in greeting.
He shook it, apprehension still in his gaze. "Did you? Sorry, I, uh, haven't called in for my messages this morning."
"Yes, well, I'm in charge of special promotional projects at Oak Valley Vineyards," she said, forging ahead with the same lie she'd concocted the day before. "And this is the owner of Oak Valley, Emmy Oak."
I gave him a little wave. While Ava was quick with a cover story, I was a terrible liar. I figured the less I said the better.
"Anyway," Ava went on. "We wanted to talk to you about possibly hiring models for a social media campaign."
"Oh?" His face broke into a welcoming smile. "Well, then, why don't you have a seat?"
"Thank you," Ava said.
Hughie gallantly pulled out chairs for Ava and me at the table before settling opposite us. "So, what sort of ads are you looking to shoot?" he asked.
"What sort?" Ava gave me a hesitant look. Apparently she hadn't worked the story out that far yet. "Uh, just some photos of people enjoying our wine, maybe? You know, to entice weekenders our way?"
Hughie nodded. "Sure. Sure. I have several young ladies who would fit the bill. I assume you're looking for more character models than fashion?"
"Is there a difference?" I asked.
Hughie gave me a patronizing smile. "Fashion models are generally a certain weight, height, body type. They have a certain look that lends itself to runway. Our character models are more like just average people, like you and me. But, you know, better looking." He shot me a wide smile, showing off a row of veneers that could blind a person from space.
"I see," I said, trying not to take offense to being just an average person.
"Uh, actually, we were interested in a couple of specific models," Ava said, shooting me a sidelong glance. "Ones we saw walk in the show this weekend at the Links."
At the mention of the tragic event, Hughie's smile fell, veneers hiding again behind his thin lips. "You were at the show, then?"
I nodded. "Yes, Ava was actually showing her jewelry there."
His eyes shot to Ava. "I thought you said you worked at a winery?"
Oops. See what I meant about not being good with lies?
"I do," Ava said, covering quickly. "I, uh, just design jewelry part time. On the side. It's a hobby." She matched his shark-like smile with one of her own. Even if her teeth were just "average person" white.
"Huh." Hughie didn't look totally convinced. But he didn't throw us out either, so I forged ahead.
"You were at the charity show as well, weren't you?" I asked. I tried to keep the note of accusation out of my voice, but it must have crept in, as the previously welcoming look in his eyes was still tempered with a healthy dose of suspicion as he turned my way.
"I had two models walking the show. Why shouldn't I be there?"
"One of those models was Gia Monroe?"
He nodded. "She was," he said hesitantly, as if not sure what he was admitting to.
"I'm so sorry for your loss." Ava reached out and put one of her dainty hands over his unnaturally orange ones.
The gesture of sympathy must have caught him off guard, as he stammered, "Uh, th-thank you."
"Had she been with you long?" I asked.
"A couple years," he said. "But she booked out a lot. She was popular."
"Costello seemed to like her look," I said, feeling him out.
Hughie nodded. "Yes, he used her quite often."
"Even though she could be difficult to work with."
"Who said that?" he asked hotly.
Costello. Jada. Pretty much everyone I'd talked to. But, instead I went with "Just an impression I got."
He made a sort of noncommittal grunt in the back of his throat. "Gia was a professional. She was in high demand."
"What was your relationship with Gia like?" Ava asked.
Hughie's eyes turned on her. "Excuse me?"
"I mean, it's such a tragedy. Were you close?" she asked, still going for the sympathy angle.
"She worked for me." His words were clipped, and I feared we were losing him.
"Wasn't it more like you worked for her?" I asked. "I mean, at least until she fired you."
"Fired me!?" Hughie shot up from his seat, his voice booming across the small yard. "Who told